To be fair, this is not a uniquely Pakistani problem. Globally, the expansion of higher education has transformed the PhD from an elite pursuit into a more standardised qualification. As universities scale up, they rely on structured processes – coursework, publication requirements, ethics approvals, formal defences – to maintain quality and consistency. These mechanisms are necessary but they also introduce a subtle shift: from intellectual exploration to procedural compliance.
This proceduralisation is compounded by a deeper issue: the absence of reflexivity. A PhD, at its core, should involve engagement with foundational questions – what counts as knowledge, how we come to know it, and what assumptions underpin our methods. These are the domains of Ontology, Epistemology and Methodology. One does not need to become a philosopher to conduct research but without some awareness of these dimensions, scholarship risks becoming mechanical.
In many cases, that is precisely what we see: dissertations that fulfil all formal requirements yet avoid asking difficult questions. The candidate demonstrates competence, sometimes impressive competence, but rarely intellectual risk-taking. The process produces researchers who can operate within existing frameworks, but not necessarily thinkers who can challenge them.
Supervision plays a critical role here. Where supervisors themselves are shaped by the same procedural systems, they often guide students towards “safe” research – topics that are feasible, methods that are familiar, and conclusions that do not disrupt prevailing assumptions.
In Pakistan, these structural dynamics intersect with social incentives. The PhD has become a powerful tool for upward mobility. It enhances employability, strengthens professional standing and carries cultural prestige. For many, pursuing the degree is a rational decision driven by these benefits. Yet when the primary motivation is instrumental rather than intellectual, the nature of engagement inevitably changes. The question shifts from “What do I want to understand?” to “What do I need to do to obtain the degree?”
This is not a moral failure of individuals; it is a reflection of the system they operate within. But it does raise a critical concern: when a society begins to conflate credentials with competence, it risks diluting both. Titles proliferate but genuine thought becomes scarce. None of this is to deny that serious scholarship still exists. There are scholars who embody the original spirit of the PhD: intellectually curious, critically engaged, and willing to challenge orthodoxies. The problem is not their absence, but their relative scarcity within an expanding system.
So what is to be done? Reform cannot simply mean tightening procedures or increasing requirements. More checklists will not produce better thinkers. Instead, there must be a conscious effort to re-centre the PhD around intellectual formation. This means encouraging interdisciplinary exposure, fostering debate and creating space for questioning assumptions rather than merely applying methods. It also requires supervisors to move beyond gatekeeping roles and act as intellectual mentors – guiding students not just in how to research, but in why it matters.
Equally important is a cultural shift. A PhD should not be the end of intellectual development, but its beginning. Without that shift, the degree risks becoming what it was never meant to be: an empty signifier of achievement, impressive in form but limited in substance. The more the PhD expands as a credential, the more its original meaning is at risk of erosion. Reclaiming that meaning requires a renewed commitment – to curiosity, to critical inquiry, and above all, to truth.